


Deep in the Woods

by BlackPrism



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell, But only a tiny bit, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, No Smut, Reader-Insert, Romance, Walks In The Woods, Wizards, and more walks in the woods, that turns into something else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 00:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12759354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackPrism/pseuds/BlackPrism
Summary: There is a cottage in the woods.And old, empty, rotting thing.But something is strange about it. Something not quite right.Papyrus decides to investigate and finds more then he bargained for.Where Papyrus meets somebody in the woods, and things don't stop there.





	Deep in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> For another lovely person over at Tumblr.  
> For melloniamellifera! 
> 
> I write stuff on Tumblr, and can write something for you too: https://bonelynomore.tumblr.com/

It was a mild day in January, as suddenly monsters poured out of a mountain, near a large city.  
Humans had long forgotten about them, barely remembering the legends. But here they were, and here they stayed.

There were a few conflicts, both sides having angry, and afraid people, both sides fearing for making a wrong step, a wrong move.

But even trough much hardship and pain, things settled down, slowly monsters were allowed to live in the city, buy groceries in the stores and form real bonds with the humans there.

Tales were told, stories were swapped. And that is how the monsters learned about the small village in the forest.  
It has been build there long ago, so long ago monsters were still roaming the surface at that time.

So long ago. all houses, all buildings, the well, the statue, the roads, all disappeared, crumbling under the ravages of time, and the force of nature.

All but one little cottage.

Most thought it was abandoned, but a few people in every generation kept the rumour alive, that somebody could be there.  
Most of those sightings were just brushed off as animals roaming through the old building.

But nobody knew why it was still there. How it was still in such a good condition, empty and desolated and missing a few pieces of wall and ceiling. But still standing proudly.

And why nobody ever made it into it, always waking up outside of the forest, walking to the city, with no memory of how they got there.

After a while humans stopped trying to get in there, only a few kids daring each other from time to time.  
But something about the house looked wrong. 

Something about it was wrong.

And nobody dared to get close to it anymore.

\------

Papyrus was taking a walk through the woods late at night in late spring, looking for the abandoned cottage.

Yes, he knew that it was stupid.  
Yes, he knew that it was probably dangerous.  
Yes, he was very bored.

Papyrus has always had sleeping problems. And they just got worse the farther he let himself sink into apathy, the longer the naps he took in the middle of the day got.

But part of him was honestly glad about that. He was very prone to nightmares, he really rather explored a dangerous and dark forest, then got back to bed and dream of a furry, white creature in a striped shirt, attacking viciously.  
But only a few minutes of walking, and hitting his head on low hanging branches, stumbling over bushes and stones, Papyrus regretted his decision.

He was lazy. He was very lazy. And he loved to just nap and do absolutely nothing. No matter if he was drowning in self-pity, or if he was just lying on the couch, numb to his surroundings. Or sometimes even just relaxing while he melted over furniture like a cat.

But even he had energy, that just build up over time and made him antsy to move at least a bit.  
Still trying to stay lazy, he usually teleported to a nearby park and walked slowly through the night.  
Sometimes he took naps on the benches.  
Always he teleported back home, straight into his bed.

But after hearing that tale about the strange cottage in the woods...he was always a curious skeleton, and his curiosity managed to sometimes win over his apathy and laziness.

He hated when that happened.

Because that usually led to this kind of situations, where he was wading trough plants, running into plants, ripping his clothes on more plants and getting even more plants into his eye sockets.

Well. At least he was leaving the house for once, and not just to get to work.  
His brother would be proud.  
Or at least less annoyed.

„where is that damn thing...“, maybe getting here in the dark, in the middle of the night, without a flashlight was a bad idea.

„nah, this is great. best idea i every had.“

Before Papyrus could direct another sarcastic remark at himself, his feet stepped on solid, grassy ground, his body following, ripping himself free from branches and bushes, catapulting himself out of the woods into an opening.

Papyrus was standing on a small clearing, brushing off the dirt and leaves that had collected on his clothes. His jacket was ripped, his bones scratched, a few scratches weeping red marrow.

„god, that was a terrible idea.“

He grimaced as he checked himself over. He was just glad trees had no intention to kill, or he would be dust by now, instead of just being scratched and bruised, only a sliver of his HP missing.

Then he finally looked up and breathed in sharply in surprise.

There was the cottage. Small, worn down, the roof made out of hay, but missing a few spots, the walls half-timbered, the white plaster, between the dark wood already grey and dirty, a few holes showing only darkness on the inside.

Papyrus stepped forward, eyebrows knitted together.  
The building looked normal. Like an abandoned, old building.  
But something seemed wrong.  
Like a photograph or a realistic painting hung up in front of him.  
He conjured a small bone attack, throwing it at one of the walls, not expecting much.  
But especially not expecting the house in front of him to dissolve like sugar and leave a tidy, little cottage behind.

A cottage that looked like new. That had no holes, and a full, clean, tightly packet roof out of dry, hard hay.  
That had clothes on a line in front of it. 

That had a front yard and a yard behind it, vegetables and herbs growing on it. That had a small chicken coop and a few rabbits.  
That had herbs and meat, birds and larger animals hung out outside to dry.

A small washing basin next to the door, still glistening wet.  
Baskets of different sizes.

Lit windows, spilling out a warm glow onto the grass.  
A chimney, spitting out smoke.

The smell of cooked meat, of potatoes, of a soup, wafting out of the cracked open window.

„You know how long it takes to get that up and running again.“

Papyrus was pretty sure, that if he had a heart, he would have just gotten a heart attack.  
He spun around to face the voice, conjuring a small, sharp bone in his hand, ready to fight, trained to defend himself through years in the harsh Underground.

In front of him was a human.

______

You throw your coat onto the hanger next to the door, walking inside, not looking at Papyrus, who follows you inside and closes the door.

He looked around, the cottage was....cosy. Nothing like the cold darkness he could see through the holes and cracks of the ruin that was once your house.

There was a fireplace, flames dancing cheerfully inside it, bathing everything in warmth and light.  
A pot inside the fireplace, charred on the bottom, and filled with a bubbling stew send out a pleasant smell, that made Papyrus lick his mouth unconsciously. 

More herbs, more animals were hanging from the ceiling, on strings, this ones already dry, all of them missing pieces that had probably gone into the stew, and other meals.

A table, chairs, a sitting chair in front of the fireplace, a closed door to another room and different carpets covering the wooden floor.

It looked like a house out of a fairy tale.

„So, why exactly did you destroy my camouflage?“, you weren‘t exactly happy about it, it was what kept you hidden from spying eyes after all, and you really loved the fact that you were invisible to the outside world.  
At least you had been.

„dunno“, Papyrus leaned against the wall next to the door, keeping an eye on both it and the slightly ajar window, „why do you need camouflage ‘nyway?“

„Well, that is my own businesses, Papyrus.“

Wow, Papyrus has never felt such a cold shiver run down his spine. And he had felt a lot of shivers in his life.

„how do you...?“

„Know your name? Like you would say ‘dunno‘.“

You smiled at him, the emotion not quite reaching your eyes. You were really not happy with this situation, and even less happy with your unwanted guest.  
But maybe...he could at least fix what he had done.

You sighed.

„Well, nothing to do about what happened. But you must admit that you owe me one now.“

„do i? i think ignorin‘ that you apparently stalked me, makes up for destroying your...uh..whatever the hell that was.“

You just smirked. He would help you, you knew that. there was something interesting about him, something that made you actually talk to him, letting him stay instead of sending him out of the forest without any memories of this.  
Like what you did to all others.

„I never stalked you, dearie. But you can‘t expect me to not know something so obvious.“

Papyrus was very uncomfortable. He just wanted to leave, but his damn curiosity made him stay.

„who are you?“

You knew that you had him now.

„Well, help me and I could tell you.“

„no way man, see ya..“

 

\------

Papyrus was grumbling to himself as he picked leafs off a nearby plant, placing them in a basket you lend him. 

He tried to leave, he honestly did. But man, something about you....he just couldn‘t place his finger on it, but something about you actually peaked his interest enough to keep him there.  
There was really something strange about you.

 

He regretted being so curious. He hated being so curious. He didn‘t actually care. It didn‘t matter if he knew who you were. It didn‘t matter like everything else. He didn‘t matter. You didn‘t matter. Nobody and nothing did.

„seems like‘t still matters to me...for some reason“, Papyrus mumbled to himself, angry at the fact that he was picking plants for a possible stalker.  
But he had to know why you knew him. He was starting to doubt that you followed him around sometimes, that you actually stalked him more and more.

Something about you made him almost care about something again. Something about you made him curious, made him feel something almost pleasant for once.

Something about you also seemed not quite right. Like with you camouflaged house. Something seemed wrong, something seemed like it wasn‘t what it looked like.

And what did you need this leafs for?

He looked back to the house, where you were placing different object around your house, sometimes stirring a liquid in a small bowl, adding various plant parts, and what looked like small bones to it.

„i just hope i don‘t literally have to lend a hand..“, picking leafs was one thing, picking bones a completely different one. 

Papyrus moved to another bush, picking a handful of berries, carelessly throwing them into the basket. He was doing this, but he won‘t put effort into it. 

He never did a good job anyway, so why bother here.

Throwing another glance at you, and one ore at the basket, he walked over to you, taking his time while watching you stir what was now a paste instead of a liquid a last time before you turned around.

„Ah, finally. You are pretty slow with such a simple task.“

„well, i had to take my mandatory break after all, don‘t want to work myself down to the bone now, do i?“

You groaned, much to Papyrus amusement. 

„Just bring them here.“

You snatched the basket out of Papyrus skeletal hands immediately. Even if you didn‘t want to admit it, you were getting kind of nervous without the camouflage on your house.  
Somebody could come by anytime, and erasing their memories takes time.  
If you would be found, you would have to flee.

You placed the leaves into your bowl, mixing them into the paste, the crushed up berries followed.

That would do.

„Move. Unless you want to be part of my house from now on.“  
Papyrus grumbled to himself but obliged. He was too young to be somebodies house. If you ever reached an age where you wouldn‘t be too young to be a goddamn house, of course.

You sprinkled the paste onto the objects around your cottage, quietly drawing symbols in a language Papyrus recognized.  
The language monsters used since they first started using the written word.

But older. Much older. Symbols that haven‘t been used for centuries, symbols that haven‘t been written this way in decades.

You stepped back after you placed the last symbol, watching your house start to shift immediately. Shift and change.

The light disappeared, the smoke did too. The walls greyed, the plaster crumbled, the hay rotted. The front yard turned into a grass field, wild and untamed. The food, herbs, even the wash basins just disappeared, crumbled to dust or rotted away.

„glad i didn‘t eat any of that..“, Papyrus was shellshocked.  
He had never seen something like that.  
It was like magic, but different.

Monster magic was something you had to have inside you.  
You didn‘t need to write anything for it, you just had to move it, like an arm or a leg.  
Of course, that limited the things you could achieve with it.  
And you could definitely not do something like you just did.

„who are you?“

Papyrus soul burned with curiosity, his body not numb, his head clear, the urge to drown in self-pity, in apathy, in nothingness faded, as only one question burned in his mind, eating up everything inside him.

„Come back tomorrow, and I might tell you.“

\------

Papyrus was definitely not coming back tomorrow. He was definitely not getting worked up about the fact that he wanted to come back tomorrow. 

He was definitely not confused about the fact that you, a person he has just met, a person that made a house turn into a ruin with a few goddamn herbs, actually ripped him out of his apathy.

He was definitely not going bonkers, trying to figure out who the hell you could be.

He was definitely not thinking up excuses for leaving the next day, for skipping on work. He was definitely not burning with curiosity. 

 

 

He was definitely not going back tomorrow.

 

 

 

He was definitely going back tomorrow.

Papyrus groaned as he walked through the still dim streets of the city, making his way back home, trying to clear his head. 

Why, oh why was the this what stopped him from covering himself with a blanket of apathy. Why couldn‘t it be something good, something cool, something amazing?

Why did it have to be a possible stalker with possibly deadly superpowers? 

Living in a hidden cottage in the forest.  
Isolated from all other sentient beings.  
Writing in a language only monsters used.  
And sending him to collect leafs.

Papyrus groaned louder, startling a stray cat in the dark.

He couldn‘t deny it. You had wrapped him around your little finger with one sentence, one request. To come back tomorrow.

And you both knew that.

 

So why was he starting to....like it?

\------

„So, what do you want to know?“

Papyrus was sitting on a chair in front of the fireplace, you next to him in the plusher sitting chair. You didn‘t have guests very often. 

You used to, but that was in the past.  
So there was no need to have another soft, sitting chair, or a second wooden chair for your table. Or anything that was required for having another person in your house.

But it was nice to see both chairs occupied at once though.

„would be nice of ya to star with your name.“

Papyrus leaned back in his chair, trying to get his bones comfortable on the hard surface.  
He was more of a plush-sitting-surface guy, not a breaking-my-behind-while-witting kind of guy.  
„Ah, can‘t do that I‘m afraid.“  
„why no? got a weird name or somethin‘?“

You smiled at him. Him not breaking anything this time out you in a good mood. He wasn‘t too bad of a company after all.

„No, no it‘s a normal name, I assure you“, you turned your head, staring at the flames of the fireplace like you were deep in thought.

„But names shouldn‘t be thrown around like that. At least not the names of certain people. There are many things you can do when you know a persons name.“

Papyrus raised his brows. You had to be cryptic, didn‘t you?  
He grimaced a bit, but eventually just sighed and let it go.

„well, then how about tellin‘ me what ya did to the house?“, Papyrus started to relax by the fire.  
His regret of giving in to his curiosity and coming here was slowly melting away, it was cosy, it was interesting and he could also slack off at the same time.

He managed to weasel out of working today, a not too difficult task for somebody as lazy as him.  
Sans would be furious, but hey, it was still worth it.

„Magic.“

Papyrus laughed at that.

„buddy, i know my magic. i know it pretty well. and that‘s not something you can do with simple magic.“

You were still looking at the fire, not meeting his eyes. But not in an uncomfortable way. More in a way that made you seem collected, calm, undisturbed by your strange visitor.

„Maybe it is not simple magic..“

Papyrus stifled a groan, „and what‘s that supposed to mean?“

„Maybe I tell you tomorrow...“

„what makes you think i will come back?“

„You did today.“

„won‘t happen again, don‘t worry.“

To nobodies surprise, he came back the next day.

______

Days passed, days turning into weeks, spring into summer, and Papyrus stopped denying that he would come back again.

 

You yourself stopped thinking about just erasing his memory, and diving back into your solitude.  
It had been lonely often, and with his daily company, you just didn‘t know how you would go back to that loneliness. 

You couldn‘t deny that he grew on you.  
Neither could he deny that you grew on him.

But you still barely knew anything about each other.  
Yes, you knew his name, a few of his quirks, but only what you could see through your sharp eyes and schooled gaze.  
You couldn‘t read minds, even if you liked to give that impression.

„so, now that we‘re best pals, how 'bout you tell me who you are?“

You laughed, he chuckled. You two still bickered with each other, but the reason had long stopped being actual distrust. You two just enjoyed it.

„I told you I can‘t tell you my name.“

Papyrus sighed.

„i know, i know....even though i don‘t really get why.“

You decided it was time to finally tell him. You were starting to get curious about him yourself, and you couldn‘t ask for something you weren‘t willing to give yourself after all.

„Names are a...tricky thing for a few people. Myself included“, you paused, not for a dramatic effect, but because you were searching for the right words that wouldn‘t give away to much, but answer his question nonetheless. 

„One day I might tell you why me. But for now, I will only tell you that names of certain people can be used to control them.“

You shuddered as you remembered how that felt, the one time you let a wrong person in on your name.

„Names give you a certain power. You can‘t tell them to anybody. You can‘t make up an alias, if you use it too much, it will stick to you like your real name and be worthless.“

Papyrus brows knit together, his gaze looking directly at you. He was listening, thinking.

„You can accept others nicknames. They will never have the same weight as the one you gave yourself.“

You took a breath. You were getting lost in your tale, forgetting to pause and breath.

„You can only tell it to somebody you trust. And not just trust. You have to trust them with your life and more.  
You have to trust them so much, you would willingly give them something that could destroy you and know they would never use it.“

 

The room was filled with silence, not comfortable, but thick and heavy. Your shoulders were tense, you couldn‘t shake off that feeling you felt so long ago when somebody used your name for the wrong.

Papyrus was sitting on the chair like a puppet, unmoving, gaze now fixed at the fireplace, face grim and set in stone.

H knew a certain human who once described him the feeling of being possessed, being controlled. Not all the time, not everywhere, but for short moments, moving them through the Underground like a puppet, forcing them to interact, to fight, sometimes to die.

Sometimes they were forced to kill, then to reset and continue peacefully. Sometimes they were forced to save and then stuck in the dark, unable to move, unable to do anything. It only felt like a moment, but they knew more time had passed. 

Sometimes they were able to get control back, to shake his hand, to laugh and smile when running from a fight.  
They told him it was rather fun, to make friends, to explore, even though they had been controlled.

Papyrus didn‘t want to imagine what it would feel like if somebody with far worse intentions would decide to control them.  
To control you.

„won‘t ask again, sorry.“

He didn‘t ask.  
You didn‘t tell.  
The next day, you two pretended this conversation never happened, idly chatting about this and that, like on every other day.

______

Papyrus usually came to you somewhere in the late afternoon, sometimes in the early evening hours, unable to skip his work every day.  
But sometimes he materialized in front of your door early in the day, only somewhere afternoon. And you learned quickly that this days were bad days.

He never said anything, but you have always been good at reading people, even the ones who don‘t have any muscles or skin on their face. And you saw his forced smile, his tired eyes, his dim eye lights.  
You saw how he slouched more than usual.  
How he practically collapsed in your chair.

Sometimes he fell asleep, you letting him nap.  
Sometimes he just stared at the fire in the fireplace, unmoving, frozen, until you woke him from his trance.

One day, somewhere in the late summer, months since he destroyed your camouflage and helped you put it back in place, you decided to call in an unspoken favour. You answered some of his questions, now it was time for yours.

But instead of asking him about his family, his job, his hobbies, you asked for something else.  
„Hey Papyrus“, it wasn‘t a good day this time, not one of the worse ones, but not a good one either, Papyrus flinching back into reality, having spaced out with a cup of tea in his hands.

„sorry.“

He always apologized.

„No need. Listen“, you weren‘t somebody of grand words, of long speeches, of glorious conversations.

„You seem off. No, don‘t deny it, we both know it is true, and we both know you are not having the greatest time on days like these.“

You got up, walking over to a cabinet in the corner, pulling out a small, glass bottle, filled with leafs and herbs, all glowing in a strange way.

„I don‘t know what‘s wrong. And I‘m nowhere qualified to help.“

„no worry, no help needed.“

He was defensive. You guessed him for the type, and you were right. But it was no time to gloat.

„Yes, help needed. I know there are other humans and monsters in the city, and I know some of them choose the kind of employment, where they always have an open ear to listen.“

You paused him before he could open his mouth fully.

„It is your decision, I am just saying that I am not one of them.“

No, your profession was something different.

„I am somebody who can give you a full night sleep, whenever you want it, whenever you need it. No consequences, no payment.“

You have seen the bags under his eyes get darker and darker, you have seen him nap on various occasion, in various locations.  
You knew how to help.  
And you knew how to pursued him to accept it.  
He was kind of stubborn, you noticed that on the first day that you met him, but he was also reasonable. 

„buddy, i told you. i‘m fine, great, ‘mazing.“

„Sure you are. But you are also tired, don‘t deny it.“

He sighed. Man, you could read him too well.  
Better even then he could read people.  
And he was damn good.  
He hated it.

„More than just tired, kiddo.“

You laughed involuntarily. Kiddo?

„what? not into that new nickname?“

Of course, he was distracting from the subject. Typical.

„It‘s not too terrible. Not worse than your subject change.“

„he. got me.“

You placed the glass jar on the table.

„Take it or leave it.“

„then i will leaf it. beleaf me.“

Papyrus laughed at his own joke, eyeing the glass.  
He has seen you brew things sometimes, seen you drink some of them. Just normal leafs from everyday trees, strawberries, grass, plants, meat and bones. Nothing extraordinary.

He even tried one of the things once, while you weren‘t looking. Somehow it made his hunger disappear instantly.  
Normal ingredients, but magical results.  
He just couldn‘t understand what you did.  
Or how.

But he knew that he could trust you.  
He knew you weren‘t just trying to magically fix him.  
He knew you knew it too, that you couldn‘t just fix him with a few plants and a kind gesture.  
You knew where your limits were.

But you still could help, even if just a bit.

Papyrus left a few hours later, waving a goodbye and closing the door, teleporting home.  
The glass was gone.  
Papyrus slept through the night, waking up without one nightmare.

 

He brought you a quiche the next day. Or his, rather sad excuse for a quiche. Watery, extremely salty, for some reason filled with strawberries and ham and covered in sprinkles, an addition of his brother as he said.

But it was the gesture that counted. He mumbled a ‘Thank you‘, while you were sitting together, just enjoying each others company while both doing something by yourself.  
You looked up from your book, Papyrus staring at his knitting.

He was surprised when you told him, that you knew that he likes to knit.  
Not hard to see for you, taking a look at his hands, his clothes. He made some himself.  
He was rather good at it too.

It would soon be cold outside, maybe you should ask him for a woollen sweater in trade for some cooking lessons?

______

It was autumn, the trees losing their leafs, and you hurrying to stock up on your supplies. You were just glad Papyrus helped you. Or you would be if his offer to help you would have resulted in ...well. Actual helping.

But no. He was lounging on the floor, sometimes idly picking at some shrubbery or grass, anything he could reach from his position. And he kept commenting your work.

„hey, almost got all the leafs of that one. keep goin‘.“

„hey, you missed a couple of berries there.“

„you missed ‘bout half the ‘shrooms.“

„hey-...“

„Either help me or shut up.“

He looked at you, one brow raised, grin slightly crooked.

„what‘re you talkin‘ ‘bout. I‘m helpin‘ over here, don‘t you see?“

You threw a soggy mushroom at him, chuckling to yourself. Sweet, sweet revenge.

Somehow you managed to slowly stock up on most of your important supplies, Papyrus actually getting off his bony behind for a bit and collecting the rest of the plants you needed, while you went hunting.

You weren‘t an amazing hunter, but you were good enough to supply yourself. And that wasn‘t only thanks to your not to shabby aiming skills, that you had trained in all the time you lived in this forest. No, you had a bit..help.

Papyrus watched from the bushes, as you walked into the forest, bow in one hand, a quiver full of arrows on your back, a leather bag slung over your shoulder and a little pouch attached to your belt.

He followed you, teleporting behind you so as not to make any sound. And you didn‘t notice him, your ears sharp and trained for hearing animals move through the shrubbery, but you weren‘t perfect, and your hearing wasn‘t either.

He watched as you kneel down and pull one of the arrows out of the quiver, laying it on your lap. You opened the pouch, pouring some kind of powder out of it, onto the tip of the arrow. Then you waited, listening.

Something moved in the bushes, something rustled. You made a loud sound, startling a wild rabbit into the open space. It ran and you took aim, and shoot.

The arrow should have missed the rabbit by a long shot, but instead of burying itself in the ground, it suddenly flew a curve. Papyrus couldn‘t believe his eye sockets. It looked like a monsters bullet attack, moving in the same way as many monsters could make their bullets move.

Not like when you threw or shoot something. The bullet was made out of the monsters magic, still a part of them, controlled to a certain degree.

But you weren‘t a monster, Papyrus thought as he saw you pick up the animal and place it into the shoulder bag. And the arrow wasn‘t a bullet.

Papyrus waited till you were out of his sight, teleporting back to were he had picked the plants you asked him to collect.

For the about 100th time, he asked himself who you were.  
And why you weren‘t telling him.

 

After the work was done and over, you two settled down in front of the warm fireplace, the chill of autumn creeping under your skin and over Papyrus bones.

It was the weekend, Papyrus being able to spend most of the day in your cottage, planning on returning home in the evening to spend some time with his brother.

Sitting there, both with a cup of tea in your hands, Papyrus decided to ask a question he has been asking since the first day you met.

„who are you?“

You smiled. One day you would have to answer him. You knew him now for months, you knew each other's favourite food, you told each other stories from your past, you still dodging most question, but telling him about how you were once chased by a neighbours dog.

He told you about how Sans raised him, and how the two of them got in trouble more often than not. You told him about your favourite colour, he told you about how he loved acorn syrup so much, he actually drank it pure.

You both chatted often, every time he visited.  
But you still kept your identity a secret.

Not that you didn‘t trust him. Well, alright, that was part of it in the beginning. But you just didn‘t know how he would take it. So you rather kept quiet and enjoyed the time with him.

You would have to tell him one day. You knew that. But you just wanted a few more days, a few more visits.

Because you were sure they would stop afterwards.  
You were something out of the ordinary for him.  
Something that was worth coming into the forest for, day after day, after day.  
Why would he keep visiting, if the one thing that made him come back that first time, and the next times, if that one question would be answered?

„Maybe I tell you tomorrow.“

The same question, the same answer.  
How long could you keep this going until he got fed up and left anyway?  
You were not ready to give up company, after having a taste of it, after so many years of isolation.

______  
More days passed, autumn slowly coming to an end, and you finally decided to keep your word and answer his question.  
You were sitting at the table, cutting away at some wood, making yourself a new spoon and some decorative figures, while Papyrus was lounging in your sitting chair, knitting away at something for his brother.

You kept throwing glances at him, opening and closing your mouth again, trying to find the best way to start this, the right words to tell him what you wanted to tell him.

Papyrus noticed you fidget in your seat.

„somethin‘ on your mind?“

„Maybe...“

How did you start this kind of conversation?

„Hey, Papyrus?“

„hm..?“

„I am a wizard.“

Well, that was one way.

„oh..ok..?“

„Ok, alright, maybe I should...explain it a bit farther?“

You got up, sitting down next to him, in front of the fireplace.

„You know about the magicians that created the barrier, decades ago, right?“

Papyrus nodded.

„Well, there were...more than just those seven. Back then magic was more common, and you monsters taught us, humans, how to use it, before everything went downhill.“

„uhm...not to burst your bubble or anythin‘, but humans can‘t use magic.“

„Not in the way you can. And not anymore, when monsters got locked behind the barrier, their magic got locked away too. It was in the air, in the water, in everything back then.“

Papyrus eyebrows slowly lowered themselves, his mouth opening slightly. Was he believing you? Or did he still think you were just making everything up?

 

„You wanted to know who I am and how I do those things you saw me do. Well, there you have it. I am a wizard. One of the few who isolated themselves from other humans after magic slowly disappeared from the surface, instead of using up the last bits we still had left and lived a short, human life.“

You were never very good. Not even close to good. But years, and years and years of nothing but living in your cottage, and trying to avoid drowning in boredom, you did get decent at most of the easier things.

„I lived before monsters got locked under the surface, you monsters aren‘t the only ones who can get centuries old. And I‘m still holding onto the last bit of magic in my soul. That‘s what I need the plants for, and all that other crap I made you collect....well, alright, I do eat some of it.“

You were holding onto that last bit of magic for decades now, you couldn‘t settle down for a normal, short, boring life and then just die.

„Back when all of you were on the surface, and your magic, everything just got soaked in it. Humans, trees, rivers, even the earth beneath our feet. Well, it did fade slowly after there were no monsters left up here. Trees died, humans did too. But you couldn‘t really do much with the earth itself, it just stayed there, everything growing on soaking up a bit of that magic.“

You could still use magic, and you didn‘t have to use your last reserve.

„And..yes. That‘s about it. I use goddamn leafs to hide my house and make people forget they ever went in here, while I cook soup and carve wooden things in here. Are you happy now?“

Papyrus flinched back a bit at your sudden outburst. You just knew he would leave, you knew he just stuck around because you were a mystery he wanted the answer too. No reason for him to stay any longer.

„hu...i almost can‘t beleaf this, but hey I have seed stranger things then what you just told me.“

Puns....you knew he would pun but...you somehow expected something else. Something more like ‘I will leave forever now‘, instead of plant-based puns.  
Well...maybe you were wrong about him.  
Maybe you were a bit over dramatic...

„so short, you‘re a wizard and you just felt like being mysterious. hu, i somehow thought you sold your soul to the devil or somethin‘.“

You couldn‘t help but laugh. The tension was still partly there, the tension that he would leave anyway, but he was joking and your heart felt a bit lighter.

„So...your bored of me now that you know that I‘m only a plain, old wizard?“

You said it jokingly, but it was a question you needed an answer for. He looked at you for a while, studying your face, just staring into your eyes with those pinprick lights in his dark eye sockets.

„na.“

And with that, he went back to knitting.

No long speech about how he wanted to be with you.  
No conversation about why he was staying with you.  
No reasons why he wouldn‘t just get up and leave.  
No reasons why he would stay.  
No anything.

You smiled as you went back to your previous task yourself.  
It was so typical Papyrus, and you couldn‘t help but feel your soul swell with warmth.

\------

Papyrus kept visiting you.  
Autumn turned to winter, snow falling and covering the forest in a wet, cold, slush.

„ah, yes..the season of grey skies and frostbite...“  
Papyrus had his hand buried deep in his pockets, grumbling under his breath, his head turned skywards, snow falling into his eye sockets as he trudged trough the forest on his way to your cottage.

Teleporting was nice and easy, but wow could a snowstorm mess with that. Papyrus wouldn‘t have imagined that the small snowstorms underground nothing compared to the ones up here.

He couldn‘t teleport if he couldn‘t even see his own hand in front of his face.  
He would probably end up stuck in a tree or worse.

Walking wasn‘t the best option either, but he didn‘t want some frozen water to keep him from seeing you.  
He was usually too lazy for this things, but Sans wanted to hear none of that, shooing him outside, yelling after him to not be so lazy and visit you.

So here he was, ankle deep in snow, guessing his way through the trees, shaking melting sludge out of his skull.  
Ah, wonderful.

Papyrus shivered. It was colder up here too. The air Underground was always dry, even in Waterfall, the air there was only damp on the hottest days.  
But up here the air was more humid, the snow was a melting sludge, he was wet down to the bones, and freezing half to death.

He wondered how a skeleton could be cold like that, without skin and nerves as he looked around in confusion for the about tenth time.

He usually had a good sense of orientation, but the weather that made him unable to see if he was even still in the forest, was really playing against him.

„god damn trees, with their god damn branches, throwing snow on me, like there isn‘t enough snow falling from the sky.“  
In short, Papyrus was the complete opposite of thrilled.

His feet slipped on the sludgy ground, Papyrus almost falling down a ditch he couldn‘t see properly, even while almost tumbling it, heads down.  
He couldn‘t remember there being a ditch anywhere near your house.  
Where was he?

„phew, almost turned into some Rolling Bones....hehe..“

 

A rustling and rumbling behind him, made Papyrus turn around. Oh, there was also a hill. With snow.  
Snow coming towards him.

Papyrus was swept off his feet, before he could react, seeing the snow, earth and stones coming towards him too late, falling down the ditch as each sound got dampened and suffocated by the falling snow.

 

You were getting worried.  
It was already getting dark, already so late in the evening, far later then Papyrus ever came to visit you.

Yes, you knew that Papyrus could have decided not to come today.  
It was snowing heavily, the snowfall just getting worse with every hour.  
Even you wouldn‘t go out in the forest right now, and you actually knew your way through it in the dark.

It was stupid to go outside right now.  
It was foolish.  
It was dangerous.  
And it was not worth risking it, just to visit you.

And that was why you knew for sure that he was out there, probably lost, probably frozen solid.

You sighed, putting on your coat, mittens and warmest winter boots. You just hoped you could find him, the forest was big and he could have wandered off anywhere.

\------

The cold didn‘t get much better as you fought yourself through the now almost knee deep snow. But at least the snowfall stopped mostly, only a few stray flakes falling down onto your head.

You were calling out to Papyrus at intervals of a few minutes, looking around to some sign that he was here, that he still is here.

You went all the way to town, the way he usually walked and back, all possible footprints long covered with freshly fallen snow.  
Then you walked behind your house and deeper into the forest, maybe he walked past your house on accident, not seeing it in the snowfall.

You kept walking, shouting and searching, slowly losing hope to find him at all. Maybe he wasn‘t even here.  
Why were you even out here?  
Why would he risk getting lost int ht forest to visit you?  
Where you thinking that you were more important to him than you actually were? That he would go out in this weather to visit you?  
You felt stupid. Of course, he wouldn‘t be out here. He was probably at home, watching TV or knitting something.

You lowered your head and turned to walk home.  
At least you wanted to, but then something sticking out of the snow caught your attention, and you were sprinting towards a small mound of snow, digging with your bare hands.

A shoe. A stupidly oversized, brown sneaker, with open shoelaces. Papyrus stupidly oversized, brown sneaker with open shoelaces.

His eye lights were out, his eye sockets open, his face like set in snow, his joint almost frozen solid, clothes wet and partially stiff from cold.  
there was a gash on his head, frozen and dried marrow drawing tracks down his skull. 

You pulled him out of the snow, rubble and dirt, checking him, frantically searching for his inverted soul, begging for him to still have enough HP.  
You gasped. His maximal HP was one. One measly, single HP. And it slowly trickled down, down into the decimals, getting lower as you watched.  
He was dying, frozen, bleeding, unconscious.

Your hands lit up with green magic, healing magic, your eyes glistening with fear and pure determination. You were as bad at it as at the others, but you wouldn‘t fail. Not this time. Not with him.

You felt the last magic in your soul leave as you placed your hands onto Papyrus chest, you felt it leave and soak into him, the bruise on his head slowly closing, his HP lowering slower and slower until it stopped at the halfway point.

The glow stopped, you desperately trying to get just one more drop of magic out of you, just raise his HP a notch, just a few more parts of a point. But that was it. Your magic was used up. You were a regular human now, with a regular soul, with regular hands and a half frozen skeleton in your lap.

It was rather hard to lug him back home, lanky bastard was frozen stiff, and refused to wake up. But you managed. You took the one or other tumble, you arrived tired, even exhausted, bruised and sore. But you made it.

You bundled him up in blankets, you let him sleep in your bed, you made tea, hoping he would wake up and drink it. But he didn‘t.

He slept for trough the night and almost the whole following day, you wondering how you could contact his brother. But you didn‘t know how to use phones or any other modern way of communication. You didn‘t know where he lived, never going into the city yourself.

You didn‘t know anything about skeletons, and he was just not waking up. You need help, you needed something, you needed something to do, instead of just sitting there, waiting, worrying.

And then he woke up, just like that, quietly opening his eyes as you wondered if you should just walk into the city and ask around if somebody knew a short, loud skeleton.

„‘sup.“

 

You crumbled against him, hugging him through layers of fabric, burying your face in the blankets on his chest, hiding a few stray tears of relief.

 

\------

„why did you do that?“

Papyrus was up and about after half an hour. He was alright the moment he woke up, but he enjoyed the warm and comfortable bed too much, refusing to get up until you shoved him out of it, swatting him with a pillow.

And he wasn‘t too thrilled as you told him what happened. Especially not with the fact that you used up your last magic, for him.  
You never knew he could get upset.

„why did you do that? you kept it for so long, you lived usin‘ leafs so you wouldn‘t have to use it. and then you just go an‘ waste it on me. an-“

You punched him, your eyes widening as you realized what you did. But you didn‘t apologize, the sudden, burning, hot anger inside you not going out.

„How dare you say that! How dare you say I wasted it on you!? I gave it to you, willingly! I gave it to you so you would life! Don‘t you dare call it a waste you...you..you stupid sack of bones! I would have given more to you if I could! I would have given you my soul if I had too!“

Papyrus looked at you, confusion on his face. Confusion that melted into...something else. Something you couldn‘t quite pinpoint.

„you...i...you would?“

You breathed in deeply, calming yourself, „Yes, I would. I would do that and more.“

„hu..i wouldn‘t have..really..you ‘now, guessed that. never thought you actually...well...liked me. always thought you just tolerated me for some reason.“

You smiled.

„No, I enjoy your company more then you can guess.“

You leaned towards him, his face inches away from yours.

„And I can prove that.“

You leaned closer, whispering your name into his ear.


End file.
